Chapter Text
Mike has been learning the new version of silence.
Not the kind where everything is calm. The kind where there’s no one left to talk to except the person sitting across from you.
Will is on the floor with his back against a wall, knees up, arms wrapped around them. Mike is on an upside-down milk crate because there isn’t a chair in this house that isn't broken. The room smells stale. Old carpet. Old smoke. Something damp that never dried right.
A boarded window turns the daylight into stripes.
Mike rolls a battery between his fingers. Back and forth, back and forth. It gives him something to do with his hands.
Will watches him for a while, then says, “You’re going to rub the label off.”
Mike stops. “It already doesn’t work.”
“It might.”
Mike looks at him. Will’s face is pale under the grime, hair pushed back in a way that makes him look younger. His nose is clean for once. No blood. Mike keeps checking, like it’s going to surprise him.
Mike says, “It’s a dead battery.”
Will says, “Okay.”
Mike waits for Will to add something. He doesn’t.
The quiet gets heavy again.
Mike hates that he’s gotten good at reading Will’s quiet. He hates that he can tell the difference between “tired” quiet and “thinking” quiet and “I’m not saying something” quiet. This was "I’m not saying something” quiet.
He says, “We should move.”
Will doesn’t answer right away. He stares at the floor, at the scuffed boards, like there’s a map hidden in the scratches.
Mike forces it lighter. “We’re not supposed to stay in one place. That’s the whole point.”
Will nods once. Still not looking up.
Mike tries again. “We’re not even supposed to be here. This is… this is stupid. This is, like, you and me breaking into a house stupid.”
Will’s mouth twitches. “It’s not breaking in. The window was already broken.”
Mike can’t help it. A small laugh slips out. It dies fast.
Will finally looks up. His eyes flick to Mike’s hands, then away. Like he’s checking the distance between them without meaning to.
Mike says, “You doing okay?”
Will picks at a loose thread on his sleeve. “I’m fine.”
Mike points at him with the battery. “No one says "I'm fine" that's actually fine.”
Will lifts his head. “I’m fine... Mike.”
Mike sits forward. “Is that true.”
Will’s eyes hold Mike’s for a beat too long. Then he looks away again, like eye contact is a dare. “It’s true enough.”
Mike puts the battery down, slow. “Tell me what’s happening.”
Will’s shoulders shift. He does that half-shrug thing that isn’t a shrug. “Nothing’s happening.”
Mike’s voice goes sharper without him meaning it to. “Will.”
Will’s gaze snaps back. “Stop saying my name like that.”
“Like what.”
“Like you’re trying to keep me—” Will stops. Swallows. “Like you’re trying to keep me here. Like I can't protect myself.”
Mike regrets it instantly. He says, softer, “I didn’t mean—”
“You did.”
“Okay. Fine. I did. Because you go weird and then you act like it didn’t happen, and I’m not—” Mike cuts himself off because his voice is getting too loud in a house that echoes. “I’m not doing this again.”
Mike mumbles under his breath "I'm not loosing you again."
Will’s mouth opens, closes. He looks like he wants to say something and hates that he wants to.
Mike waits.
Will says, “You’re tired, Mike.”
“So are you.”
Will shakes his head. “No. You’re tired of me.”
That lands like a punch and Mike’s face changes before he can stop it.
Will sees it. His eyes flicker. “There.”
Mike stands up too fast. The crate scrapes. “I’m not tired of you!”
Will says, “You are.”
Mike looks down at him, angry now because fear always turns into anger if he doesn't catch it early. “That's not true, Will!”
Will’s voice stays calm. “Then say it.”
Mike pauses, stares. “Say what?”
Will stands up, looking directly at Mike infront of him a few feet away, eyes are steady. Too steady. “Say that you want to be here. With me. Say you’re not just here because you were told to be here.”
Mike’s throat tightens. He hears it then—underneath Will’s words, something threaded through them. Not a second voice. A pressure. A rhythm.
Mike says, “What are you doing.”
Will blinks once. “Talking to you.”
“No.” Mike steps closer. Stops himself before he steps too close. “You’re doing… you’re doing something.”
Will’s lips part. “What am I doing."
Mike feels the hair on his arms lift. He says, “Like you're trying to make me mad... or something.”
Will stares at him. “Maybe you should be mad.”
Mike pauses for a second, could it be? “Will, stop.”
Will’s head tilts, small. “Why.”
Mike’s mouth is dry. He doesn't want this to be true, because that could mean... "Because... this is not you, Will.”
Will’s eyes brighten in a way that makes Mike’s stomach drop. “It's me.”
“No. It’s—”
Will takes a few steps towards Mike, slowly. Like he has all the time in the world.
Mike backs up a step. This isn't Will.
Will watches him back up and smirks, but it doesn’t look like Will, It looks like someone wearing Will’s face, inhuman.
Will says, “You always do that.”
“Will—”
“You run.”
Mike’s voice cracks. He says softly, "I’m not running, Will.”
Will moves one step closer. The floor boards creak. “You ran when I was gone. You ran when I came back. You ran when I moved. You ran when I moved in. You ran when I needed you most.”
Mike’s chest gets tight. “Will, STOP.”
Will says, “You’re still running.”
Mike’s hands curl into fists. He forces them open. “Will. Listen to me. I know this isn't you. But I'm not sure, so... just stop talking so I know it's you and not... him.”
Will laughs once.
It isn’t funny.
Mike takes another step back. “Don’t come closer.”
Will stops. For a second, Mike thinks it worked, and feels instant relief that it's actually Will in there and not Vecna or the Mind Flayer.
There's a pause.
Then, Will says, very softly, “Make me.”
Mike’s whole body goes cold.
Mike goes tense, making direct eye contact with Will like it'll break him out of this trance. His voice is shaky as he says "Will..." not knowing what his next move may be.
Will doesn't stop. He gets closer and closer.
Mike’s voice lifts. “WILL, STOP!”
As Will lunges forward, Mike reaches his arms out on instinct, not to grab, just to block and shield, and Will catches his wrist with his right hand.
Will’s grip is too hard, and his hand is as cold as ice. Not normal. Not human-friendly. Mike feels bone under his skin grind and he sucks in a breath.
Mike says, “Will, stop! You’re.. hurting.. me!” as he looks at his wrist and tries to break free.
Will’s face doesn’t change. “Good.”
Mike looks up at Will and stares at him, making direct eye contact. His voice gravely, "This isn't you!" his voice loud.
Will steps in, close, and shoves Mike back into the wall using pinning his shoulder using his left hand, his right hand keeping the grip tight and pinning his wrist to the wall.
Mike’s shoulder hits the plaster wall. Dust falls. His head hits the wall hard enough that his vision flashes and head drops in pain.
Will pins him there, forearm now across Mike’s neck, not choking him but making it hard to breathe.
Mike, in agonizing pain, tries to put the panic aside and put his last bit of strength into a plan. But no matter how hard he's thinking, he can't come up with a plan, It just turns back into panic.
Mike looks back up at Will, looking him in the eyes. As he does, he notices the black veins and the dead soulless eyes. Vecna. “Will—”
Will presses harder. “Say it.”
Mike, struggling to breathe "Say what?”
Will’s voice, now deeper than before. “The truth.”
Mike freezes.
Not because he doesn’t know the answer. Because he knows this is bait. Because he knows this is wrong. Because he knows Vecna would take it and turn it into a weapon against him, and against Will.
Mike chokes out, “This is not—”
Will slams him again, harder. “SAY IT!”
Mike’s voice goes hoarse, pushing as much air out of his lungs as is possible with Will's arm so strongly pressed against his neck. “STOP!”
Will’s face moves closer. His breath is cold, cold like how it was when Will was possessed those years ago.
Will says, “You want to keep me here. Then keep me.”
Mike’s hands shove at Will’s arm. It doesn’t move. Will’s strength is unreal.
Billy. This is what happened to Billy.
Mike’s mind scrambles. He thinks of Hopper, of Eleven, of Robin with her stupid plan to make them make refuge in that house together. He thinks of every D&D game. He thinks of the painting. The swings. When they found Will's fake body in the lake. How he already lost Will before and won't risk loosing him again. Loosing him to Vecna again.
He can’t save Will from Vecna if he can’t move.
Mike says, through clenched teeth, “I’m not going to fight you."
Will’s mouth twists. Distorted. "You already are.”
Will shifts his weight. His knee presses into Mike’s thigh and Mike’s leg buckles.
Mike’s fear spikes into something else. Survival. Animal simple.
“Let go-”
Will says, “No.”
Mike can hear the squeak on every inhale. His heart hammers. He can feel Will’s fingers on his wrist, digging into the bruise he’s making.
Mike’s voice breaks. “Please.”
Will’s eyes do not soften. “Why should I? You've hurt me worse before.”
Mike swallows hard. Looking directly at Will. The anger and fear boiling up. His stomach turns. “I’m serious. LET. GO."
Will’s face inches closer. “Or what.”
Mike’s hands shake. He tries to struggle, to get out. To save Will.
Will sees it and smiles. “Look at you.”
Mike’s vision tunnels. He thinks, with a clarity that scares him: If I don’t do something, he’s going to break my wrist. Or my ribs. Or—
Mike’s brain finds one rule. One option.
Break contact. Shock the system. One hit.
It's not Will, it's Vecna. He tells himself. It's not Will, it's Vecna.
He hates it. He hates that it’s the only option.
Mike says, “I’m sorry.”
Mike swings with his one free arm. Because his brain is so foggy, he has no idea that he just swung his arm the hardest and strongest he's ever swung before.
It’s a straight punch, fast and desperate, aimed at Will’s shoulder or chest, not his face. Mike isn’t trying to hurt him, he’s just trying to get him off.
But Will shifts to the side at the last second, and Mike’s fist hits the wrong spot, directly in the jaw.
The sound is sharp. Final.
Will staggers back. His heel catches something. He starts to fall back hard.
His head hits the corner of the metal shelf on the wall. Mike doesn’t even see what, he just hears it: the ugly crack of skull against house.
Will falls flat onto the floor with a thud. His body goes still on the floor.
For a full second, Mike can’t breathe. All be can do is stand there in shock.
This isn't real. It's not Will, it's Vecna. It's not Will, it's Vecna.
Then his lungs are free and he remembers how to breathe and he drags in air like he’s been underwater.
Mike’s hands are up in front of him, shaking. He looks at his fist like it belongs to someone else. Like it's not his hand.
He looks back at Will
It's not Will, it's Vec—
The voice in his head disappears. His pupils constrict rapidly. All he can see is Will. No black veins, no weirdness, Just Will. The real Will.
Then he sees the blood.
His voice shakes. “No...”
Will doesn’t move.
Mike scrambles and drops to his knees so fast they slam into the floor. He crawls the last foot to Will like the floor is ice and he’s sliding.
“Will.” Mike’s voice is small. “Will. Hey. Hey, hey, hey—”
Will’s face is turned to the side. Blood is already there. Not a lot, but enough blood at his temple to send Mike into total chaos.
I. Can't. Loose. Him. Again.
Mike tries to grab Will's head but gets blood on his hands. Mike looks down at his hands now soaked in blood.
Mike’s stomach churns.
"No, no, no, no, no—"
He says as his throat begins to form a lump.
He reaches for Will's head again and stops himself, hands hovering because he’s terrified that touching him will make it worse, terrified that not touching him is worse.
“Will.” Mike’s voice rises. “WILL, COME ON—” his voice cracking.
Will’s eyelids twitch.
Mike goes dead still.
Will’s eyes open halfway. unfocused. Confused. Real.
Mike's whole world collapses into relief, I didn't loose Will again. It's not total relief though because of how much Will is still bleeding. His mouth opens. His eyes meet mikes, his voice is thin. “Mike...."
Mike leans in, hands finally going to Will’s shoulders, gentle now, careful, not shaking him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. I’m here. I’m sorry. I didn’t—Will, I didn’t mean—”
Will’s eyes fill with tears instantly, like his body is reacting before his brain catches up.
He whispers, “Mike...”
"Yeah, Will? Yeah?"
"...Why?"
Mike’s throat closes. His light smile fades. “Because you—because it wasn’t—I thought—”
Will’s face twists. A tear tracks down into the blood. “It hurts.”
Mike’s voice goes ragged. “I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you like that, I didn’t mean—” He swallows hard. “I didn’t mean to—”
Will’s eyes flutter.
Mike panics. “No, no, stay with me. Stay with me, okay? Don’t—don’t go to sleep, okay? Please...”
Will’s mouth opens like he wants to answer.
He doesn’t.
His eyes roll slightly, then shut.
Mike’s brain goes blank.
“Will?” Mike says it once. Then louder. “Will!”
He presses a hand to Will’s cheek. “WILL, WAKE UP.”
Nothing.
Mike’s breath turns into something ugly. He fumbles for a pulse at Will’s neck. He doesn’t know if he’s doing it right. His fingers slip on sweat and blood.
“I’m sorry,” Mike says, like the word can rewind time. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
And then the room changes.
The air just gets heavy, and the sound drops out, and Mike feels a pressure behind his ribs.
He looks up.
Vecna is there. Across the room emerging from the darkness.
Not Will. Not through Will. There.
Tall. Still. Watching.
Mike’s body locks. His hands stay on Will because letting go feels impossible, but the moment he realizes what he’s seeing his whole spine turns to ice.
Vecna speaks, and the voice is calm, familiar.
“Look at you.”
Mike’s jaw trembles. “Get out.”
Vecna takes one slow step forward. “You finally did it.”
Mike’s breath shakes. He stands up and steps over Will to stand in front of him, trying to shield him from Vecna. "DID WHAT?.” His breath moving faster and heavier than ever before.
Vecna’s head tilts. “You hit him.”
Mike’s eyes burn. “It... it wasn’t him y-YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” His voice cracking and the lump in his throat only growing larger.
Vecna’s smile is small, but real. “It was his face.” He takes another step towards Mike who's still standing In front of Will, holding his ground.
Mike’s voice cracks as he yells "GO AWAY!” He scans the room for something to pick up to defend himself with, but all he has are his bloodied and sweaty hands.
Vecna doesn’t react. Doesn’t blink. “You always needed someone else to be the monster for you.”
Mike’s whole chest tightens. He tries to stay standing, but his legs don’t cooperate. He trips but quickly gets halfway up again, shaking, because if he stays on the floor he’s going to start begging and he refuses to do so.
Vecna watches him wobble. He continues to slowly walk towards Mike. "You want to be the hero so badly.”
Mike forces out, “I am not—”
“—strong?” Vecna finishes, soft. “You aren’t.”
Mike trues to say something, anything, but no sound comes out.
Vecna glances down at Will’s body. “He trusted you.”
Mike’s eyes flash to Will. “I- I-”
Vecna looks back at Mike. “And you didn't even know if it wasn't truly him in there”
Mike’s throat tightens so hard it hurts. Tears start to form in his eyes and you can hear it in his voice. “I. knew.”
Vecna is even closer. Mike backs up without meaning to, then catches himself and plants his feet.
“You left him, again and again. You tell yourself you didn’t. You tell yourself you tried. But you weren’t there. You weren’t there when he needed you. You weren’t there when it counted. You weren’t there when the dark took him.”
“I was twelve.”
Vecna’s eyes stay on him. “And now?”
Mike clenches his fists, his nails bite his palms. “Now I’m here, I've- I've been here.”
Vecna nods slowly. “Yes. Now you’re here.” He looks down again. “And he’s on the floor.”
Mike, tears now falling from his eyes with every blink, makes a quick glance at Will and back up. He's practically wimpering when he says "He- he needs help!" “He’s.. alive!"
Vecna’s voice stays gentle. “Is he.”
Mike’s eyes dart to Will’s face. Will's chest isn't moving enough. Maybe it is. Mike can’t tell. His brain can’t measure anything. Mike is frozen.
Vecna watches him drown in that uncertainty and seems pleased.
“You want to save him.”
Mike spits the words. “YES.”
Vecna steps in until he’s close enough that Mike can feel his breath. “Then do it.”
Mike’s voice is raw. “DO WHAT??”
Vecna’s smile widens a fraction. “Exactly. You never learn, do you Michael."
Mike’s eyes burn so hard they blur. “LEAVE. HIM. ALONE.”
Vecna’s voice drops. “You never protected him. You protected your picture of yourself.”
Mike shakes his head hard. He wipes the still flowing tears off of his eyes. No.”
Vecna speaks like he is speaking directly to Mike's soul. “You didn’t listen. You didn’t ask the right questions. You didn’t see him. You made him carry it alone.” A pause. “And when he finally reached for you—” Vecna’s eyes flick down to Mike’s bloody hands, then to Will. “—you hurt him.”
Mike’s tears spill. He hates it. He hates that Vecna can make him cry with just words. Stupid stupid words. “I didn’t mean to.”
Vecna is now so close to Mike that Mike can feel his breath on his face. "Intent doesn’t heal bruises.”
Mike makes a sound that isn’t language. He drops back to his knees, because Will is right there, and nothing matters except Will.
He reaches for Will’s face again, desperate. “Will. Will, please. Please wake up. Please—”
Vecna lets him, watches him.
“Look what you did.”
Mike sobs out to Will, his head drops down because seeing Will like this, and by his own hand, takes any remaining strength away from him. “I’m sorry-"
Vecna’s voice turns colder. “He can’t hear you."
Mike’s head snaps up. “SHUT UP.”
Vecna raises a hand, slow, and Mike’s body freezes mid-motion. Not pinned by vines. Not thrown. Just stopped. Like the room is holding him.
Vecna leans in. “You’re the anchor.”
Mike’s voice shakes. “I am?" He thinks a little harder, Wills anchor. I am.
Vecna’s eyes gleam. “Anchors can be pulled.”
Mike tries to move. He can’t.
Vecna says, “I know you.”
“You don’t.”
Vecna’s voice is soft. “You don’t want to be left. You don’t want to be useless. You have to feel needed. You don’t want to be the boy who couldn’t save anyone.”
Mike’s eyes squeeze shut. He can’t stop the tears. He hates that what Vecnas saying is true.
Vecna starts to crouch down to get to Mikes level “You will do anything to keep him close.”
Mike whispers, “Yes.” Looking vecna dead in the eyes.
Vecna smiles. “Good.”
"m-mike?"
Mike gasps, lurches around to see Will. "Will?"
Vecna steps back, almost polite, almost bored.
Vecna says, “Go on.”
Mike can't hear vecna anymore, all sound but Will and Mike's own breathing is completely drowned out in his ears. He scrambles to Will, hands shaking so badly he can barely hold Will’s jaw steady. “Will. Will, I’m here, okay? I’m here, please—please—” He sucks in air like there's not enough air to fill his emptying lungs. Mike is ugly crying now even uglier than before. “Wake up. Please.”
Vecna’s voice drifts behind him. “You won’t stop me.”
Mike doesn’t look back. He can’t afford to.
Vecna says, “You can’t save him.”
Mike’s voice turns into a shout into Will’s face as his eyes start to shut again. "WILL, PLEASE!”
Vecna says, “And he will pay for your weakness.”
Mike fully breaks. His body shakes. His words come out jagged. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry—”
Vecna’s voice is almost amused. “Such devotion.”
Mike squeezes his eyes shut. “Get out of my head.”
Vecna says, “I’m not in your head.”
Mike feels it then, a cold hand on his back. Vecnas hand.
Vecna says, “I’m in your life now.”
Mike opens his eyes and looks down at Will. He presses his forehead to Will’s, careful, like he’s terrified his weight will crush him. “Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die.”
Vecna steps back, fading into the darkness, into the silence, leaving Mike alone with the blood on the floor and the shaking in his hands.
Mike thinks back to middle school health class and their first aid unit. How to fill a wound. Mike rips his shirt at the hem, almost tearing it in half, and presses the fabric into the wound Will’s head. “Okay. Okay. Okay.” He’s talking to himself now as he continues to stuff the would with his shirt “We stop the bleeding. We—” His voice catches. “We get you out. We—”
Will doesn’t answer.
Mike’s hands are slick. His chest hurts. His throat hurts. His eyes hurt. He is holding pressure onto Wills head.
He looks at the blood on his hands and starts shaking harder.
“I did this”
Then louder, with the weight of his disbelief bearing on him. “I DID THIS- shit!"
He is keeping pressure on the filled wound now. He thinks that talking might bring him back. He would try anything. "Will, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
He leans down again, desperate, trying to breathe for two people. "SOMEBODY HELP!" "WE NEED HELP!"
Mike runs to the window they broke in through, and kicks his way through it using all the force left in his body. He runs back and picks up Will, and runs with him out of the house.
He runs as fast as he can, desperately trying to get someone's attention so Will can get to the hospital. His legs want to give out but he won't let them.
As Mike reaches the side of the main road his legs collapse. "HELP! SOMEBODY!"
Wills eyes open slightly but Will can't say anything.
"Oh Will." His voice jagged "SOMEBODY PLEASE!"
"HELP"
Mike keeps pressure on the wound and keeps talking to Will, because talking is the only thing he can do that feels like it's doing something.
“Stay. Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me.”
And he doesn’t know if Will is hearing any of it.
But he keeps going anyway.
He sees car lights in the distance, so Mike musters up the last bit of breath he can force out of his lungs to yell "HERE! OVER HERE! HELP!"
The End of Fic (for now...)